


Blood All Around Her

by Anonymous



Category: Sweeney Todd (2007), Sweeney Todd - Sondheim/Wheeler
Genre: Angst, Blood, Drama, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Violence, Johanna Barker - Centric, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:29:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29798166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Following the death of one of her father’s customers, Johanna reflects on what bright her into the bloodied room and her strange relationship with Mr. Todd.
Relationships: Johanna Barker & Sweeney Todd, Johanna Barker/Anthony Hope
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	Blood All Around Her

Blood was splattered across the room, yet Johanna didn’t move. She was used to the sight. Used to the dreadful red liquid. It began with her, always, it seemed. 

When her father - her real, biological father came for her, his hands were caked in red. A spot of the same shade was on her dress sleeve, as she hadn’t changed into her nightgown yet. Bits of dried blood hung in her hair. A bright contrast to her yellow locks. Her wounds didn’t sting as she attempted to clean them off earlier. It was the reminders of what her guardian did to her, which made her hands shake and her breathing to become uneven. 

Johanna sat on the edge of her bed, rocking herself back and forth in a soothing motion. Arms wrapped around herself. Mr. Todd rescued her. Breaking into the house when the judge wasn’t around. Attacking the servants who mistakenly got in his way. As a man’s footsteps burst into her room, Johanna, ignorant of the events unfolding below her, fled into her closet, expecting the judge. 

But it wasn’t. The strange man, pale as death, who stood before her was not the judge. Somehow, he knew he was her father. Johanna, his daughter. 

She went along with the scheme. Taking Mr. Todd’s elbow as he escorted her down the stairs. He warned her to cover her eyes, as they descended onto the first floor. Johanna nodded and did so. However, she peeked through her fingers, bright light blinded her at first. Before the servants, laying on the floor came to view. Johanna’s foot landed on something soft. The wrong texture for a floor. Mr. Todd glanced over at her, forcing Johanna to recover her eyes. He helped her over the heaps of cold persons. They weren’t dead, he muttered under his breath, simply out cold. Somehow he was unnoticed. 

Escape. Taking the first step out of the house with Mr. Todd was the first stage in her flee from London. His speech of them being related shouldn’t get in the way. Even if he was her father, Johanna didn’t want one. She didn’t need another Judge Turpin in her life. 

The first night, when Johanna wandered into the barbershop. Tucking a shawl around her shoulders. She refused sleep. Instead, Johanna watched outside the window. Wide and cold as her fingertips made contact. The moon rose. Johanna stared. Birds sang. Her hoarse voice attempted to match their sweet tone. 

Mr. Todd threw the door open to the shop, eyes darting about. She froze in her half-standing position. Once his eyes (empty and black, she noticed) landed on her, Johanna began to sputter out as many apologies and promises as she could come up with. She rose to the balls of her feet. Mr. Todd’s upper lip twitched. Johanna cowered. Surely, he was going to lose his temper. How stupid could she have been? Sneaking about the building in the midst of night. She should have stayed in that room, however frigid it was. Her thirst for moonlight was impractical. Johanna squeezed her eyes shut, awaiting the moment Mr. Todd’s temper would erupt. 

She imagined herself ducking through the door and running. Far away as she could from the grey city. Johanna opened her eyes. Staring. Until she was running.

The night air stung as she sprinted down the street. Sobs rang from her throat, although she didn’t comprehend them. From the corner of her eye, Johanna noticed a prostitute beckoning her over. She shook her head and continued to run. Her legs as heavy as a bag of flour and her lungs like fire. Her body had never known exercise such as this before. 

London was an unsolvable maze. Johanna tore down the next street. Then the next. Once she slowed down, she looked about. A knife twisted through her gut as she realized she was lost. 

Thieves wandered the streets and Johanna was an easy target. She wrapped her arms around herself, in a pathetic attempt to block the raw air. Her footing was unsteady as the breeze. She heard her name. In Mr. Todd’s heavy tone. Daring to look behind her, Johanna found Mr. Todd was running towards her. Ready to steal her back. 

Through the agony her body was facing, she forced herself to pick up her pace. Breaking into a run, she tore against the wind. 

Someone caught Johanna’s arm. Rough and unforgiving. Mr. Todd spun her around, to face him. She slapped at his hand like swatting at a fly. Using the edge of her palm to push him off. Johanna’s efforts, however, resulted in vain. Mr. Todd grabbed her other wrist and began back to Fleet Street. 

“Let go of me,” she hissed. 

Mr. Todd didn’t answer. Her statement inspired him to draw her closer. Making it harder for her to escape. Though, the embrace was a shelter. 

Not unlike a child throwing a tantrum, she clung to every streetlamp, every pole, every shop entrance, she could throw herself around. Yet Mr. Todd threw her inside the bakery. Johanna fell onto her knees, forehead nearly touching the carpet, as she hugged herself tighter. 

Mrs. Lovett, a woman who was neither mother nor enemy to her, entered the room, questioning Mr. Todd’s antics. 

Johanna listened to their harsh whispers. She looked back at the door to her freedom. Blocked by Mr. Todd’s overbearing figure. Mrs. Lovett knelt by Johanna, rubbing circles on her back. 

“How about a pie, love?” Mrs. Lovett asked, “You haven’t anything to eat recently. A good pie’ll cool your head and warm the soul. How ‘bout that?” 

“No-no, thank you, Mrs. Lovett,” Johanna said, grimacing at her weak tone. 

_ She was going away; there was no time for a pie.  _

The doors were locked at night. A good portion of the day, as well. Johanna was a caged lark. With Mrs. Lovett and Toby for companionship, aside from Mr. Todd. 

“May I watch you work, sir?” Johanna asked Mr. Todd a few days into her, well, stay. The day was lonelier than most. From the second floor, she could hear chuckling customers, meaning business was good that day. Perhaps, if she took interest in Mr. Todd’s line of work, he would take pity on her. Judge Turpin enjoyed it when she asked him about the law. Always a brief distraction from the pain he granted unto her. 

“No,” Mr. Todd said. 

“Well, it’s just lonely up here and perhaps-” 

“No.” 

The word was harsher than his shaving blade. Johanna clasped her hands together behind her back with a short nod. Her chest was sore from the defeat, though she tried to ignore it. 

“Do you, or Mrs. Lovett I would presume, have some needle and thread?” Johanna inquired. 

“Needle and thread?” 

She gave a curt nod. “I enjoy embroidery, sir. I was hoping to do some.” 

Mr. Todd hesitated. She pointed down and opened her mouth, but he interrupted her, 

“I’ll see what I can find.” 

The next day, Johanna pressed her hands against the window. Embracing its cold. And she looked down. 

A boy, not yet twenty, without child-like features, stared back at her. He was beaming. The smile of a jolly, little lad who was filled with child-like wonder. His eyes were blue. And Johanna found herself lost in them. 

He nodded up at her before disappearing. 

Johanna looked away from the window. Steps emerged up the stairs. Not Mrs. Lovett’s nor Toby’s. Most likely another customer. She bit her lip to ease her lungs as she held her breath. The steps pounded into the room over. Johanna pressed her ear against the wall. 

“Mr. Todd, who was that at the window?” 

The stranger’s voice was in a modulate sense. Of a young man with his heart in his throat. 

“No one you’d know.” 

“Well, I’m sure.” The unfamiliar voice gave a quick laugh. “But who was she? The girl?” 

It was her boy. The one from outside the window, who smiled and nodded at her. Johanna was sure of it. A burst of sunshine poured into her chest when he spoke. 

“You needn’t know that,” Mr. Todd said, sounding distracted. 

The boy laughed. “Whyever not?” When Mr. Todd didn’t answer, he continued in babbles Johanna couldn’t make out. She pressed herself into the wall. “Oh, Mr. Todd! She’s your daughter, isn’t she? The one you told me about on the way . . .” 

Johanna misstepped, causing her to fall backward. She pulled herself up using a stool, as the door swung open. 

“I’m all right,” she assured Mr. Todd. 

Behind him was her boy. He swept a lock of dirty blonde hair behind his ear while they made eye contact. A wave of shyness washed over her, resting in a pit in her stomach. She’d hardly spoken to others before.

“Hello,” Johanna said, an octave above a whisper. 

“Miss.” He bobbed his head. 

Her lips were too dry to move. Johanna looked back at Mr. Todd. Awaiting an explanation. She gave one, looking down. He asked if she was all right. She assured him he was and it was her foolishness that caused her to trip. Mr. Todd began to close the door. Shielding her from the boy. 

“I’m Johanna!” she said through the wood. 

“Anthony Hope-”

Even as she leaned against the door, she couldn’t hear anything but their footsteps. Sighing, Johanna turned away. A flash of the hair tone passed her window. She ran to it. Catching glimpses of Anthony. He looked up and waved. Tilting her head, she waved back. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Johanna stayed. Thoughts of escaping alone turned into those of eloping and cottages in the French countryside. Anthony was going to steal her away. The light at the end of a tunnel. They spoke in whispers at the window. Intertwining their fingers. 

The door was unlocked. Perhaps a mistake on Mr. Todd’s part. Perhaps, he trusted her now. Johanna suspected the former. Pressing a gentle hand on the door, it swung open and she stepped. Like a child sneaking out of bed Christmas Eve night, she landed on her toes, stepping lightly on the floor. The door to the shop stood slightly ajar. Johanna reached out, planning to close it completely. 

Crimson stained the wall. 

She found herself drawn to it. Itching to move closer. To  _ touch  _ it. With the shake of her head, Johanna crept inside. 

The liquid poppy petals were everywhere. Blood. Running down the chair and slithering down to the floor. Appearing, almost as if, someone had been killed. 

Nonsense. Mr. Todd’s last customer arrived not five minutes ago. The blood had to be unreal. Perhaps, this was the reason her door was unlocked. It was a prank. Mr. Todd didn’t appear to be the joking type, but she could imagine Toby giggling as he painted the area red. 

It was the only explanation. Yes. Yes. The only one. 

She rubbed her hands on her arms. Was the room actually cold? Or was it the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach? Johanna looked the room over again. Nearly spilling on the wine-like substance. 

“Johanna?” 

Mr. Todd.

She stopped without turning around. 

“Toby?” she croaked, dreading the answer. 

“No, my dear.” He began towards her. She looked into a corner of the room. “Johanna?” 

A chuckle escaped her. A very out-of-place little bit of laughter. Johanna covered her mouth with her palm. Against the proper time and place for such mannerisms. She found his reflection in the cracked mirror. His eyes were as soulless and dark as always. 

“Is it real?” 

“The blood? Yes.” 

“Surely, it’s just animal blood.” Johanna looked down. “Were you helping Mrs. Lovett with her meat again? I’ve heard some of those markets don’t prepare the meat right.” 

“It’s not animal blood, love.” 

Not animal blood. The customer five minutes ago. Johanna never heard his footsteps leaving. The dried claret on Mr. Todd’s hands when he came for her. The chair. Bloodiest of all. Thick liquid dripping like paint. Crimson. Rubies. 

Johanna dropped to the floor, a hand cupping her mouth, the other clutching her chest. 

“Oh, goodness.” 

As she hit the floor, the world stopped. Her head was the beat of drums. Beating, beating, beating. The blood swirled into a blur of maroon. Mr. Todd - her  _ father - _ was a murderer. Taking lives of whoever stepped through his shuddersome door. Unknowing. Naive. He killed those innocent men. 

Mr. Todd was no greater than Judge Turpin. 

“Are you going to . . . stop?” 

“Not until I have my revenge.” 

Shaking, Johanna looked back at the mirror. Mr. Todd was closer to her now. Not dangerously. A hand was stretched out. Pale, but with glossy blood. 

“Revenge on whom?” 

“Turpin.” 

The name of the Devil was more welcome. The judge’s name was venom and Mr. Todd was quick to spit it out. Wobbly knees lifted Johanna to her feet. Mr. Todd offered his hand in help, which she declined. Such careful hands. Hands with blood on them. 

“What then? When you have your revenge?” Johanna whispered. 

He paused. Perhaps, as clueless as she was about the future. Johanna turned herself around. 

“Life goes on, I suppose.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Johanna prided herself on how able she avoided people. Of course, she avoided most, by being locked away for years. But she knew from experience curt nods and sharp words drove the unwanted away. Realizing her father was a killer, drained Johanna of her already limited energy. Johanna paid attention to the murmuring exchanged by Mr. Todd and his customers. Waiting for the moment the chair would drop the corpse. She was tempted, once or twice, to call out a warning. 

This man spoke with orotundity, allowing for Johanna to hear through the walls. Mr. Todd maintained his usual whisper. 

“My three tots, I call ‘em,” the man said with a chuckle in his throat, “Then, of course, me wife. There’s Webster an’ Etta an’ Ford, sir. The most beautiful lil’ tykes to ever live on this earth. They get most of their looks from their mother. Good thing you know.” He released his laugh, erupting from his belly. 

_ A father.  _ With three children and a wife. The way he spoke of them. More fondness had never been put into words before. Three children. A wife. A nice little family. Happy. 

Johanna’s stomach clenched. 

“Do you have any lil’ ones, yourself, Mr. Todd?” 

“Yes.” Mr. Todd paused. “A daughter.” 

“Ah. A daughter. How old is she?” 

“Sixteen. Almost seventeen, now.” 

The man chuckled again. “Sixteen.” He gave a low whistle. “When my Etta gets to that age, I don’ know what I’ll do. All the boys mus’ be after ‘er.” 

“Not if I have anything to do with it.” 

The man chortled. Mistaking Mr. Todd’s comment as a quip. Though Johanna was almost certain he spoke the truth. 

“Gotta love ‘em, long as you have ‘em. Family is the greatest gift man has been given.” 

The razor, glittering in the sun, flicked into Johanna’s mind. A weapon, not a tool. Pressed down on this man’s skin. Slicing his throat. A father. A husband. His family needed him. Johanna needed a father. She needed to allow those children the man spoke so fondly of, a father. 

“Leave! Go! Get away!” 

She screamed with all her might. Punching the wall. Slamming herself into it. Anything to warn him away from the barbershop. 

“Please! You have to go!” 

Johanna thrust her foot against the wall. Wincing as it throbbed. She slammed both hands. 

“Sir, I promise, you have to-oh!” 

Mrs. Lovett grabbed her wrist, holding her back and holding her mouth shut. From the other room, the gears were stressed as the chair dropped the victim. 

The world lost another innocent man. Innocent father, innocent husband. 

She knew hardly anything about the victim. Only his laughter was like fictional saints bringing candy to children. Johanna could picture him. An uneven beard. Rosy cheeks framing a wide grin. Balding on top which he covered with a ratty hat. The picture-perfect family man. 

“What did you do that for?” Mrs. Lovett exclaimed, letting her go, but keeping the grip on her arm. 

“Mr. Todd, he killed-”

“Enough of all this ‘ _ Mr. _ Todd’ business, already! Don’t you know what he did to find you? He’s spent years in prison, dreaming of finding you, again. He risked everythin’ to get you back! Call ‘im a proper name for a father. It’s the least  _ you _ can do!” 

Mrs. Lovett huffed. Their eyes met. Hers were of bright red anger. Johanna glanced back at her feet. 

“I’m sorry.” 

An apology didn’t feel right coming from her, yet Johanna didn’t know what else to say. She was used to mumbling the words. After leaning too out of the window. After not keeping her bird quiet. 

A humorless chuckle escaped Mrs. Lovett. “You better be. But that apology’s for your da. Not me.” 

With a stare, she left the room. Without locking it. Breathing heavily, Johanna examined the keyhole. Before she could realize what she was doing, she grasped the doorknob and walked out. 

All very calmly. She just needed some air. She found herself down the stairs. No one thought differently. Johanna winked at Toby. The scent of the pies stung her stomach. She hadn’t eaten in almost a day now. She was too nauseated to think about a pie or sip of ale. 

She stepped onto the street. Bustling with folk. This time, the blanket of the night wasn’t there. Day prevailed making the streets seem less unknown. This time she was running away, she might actually get somewhere. 

No, Johanna reminded herself, she was not running away. Merely, taking a breath. Turpin never let her go outside for a breath. Now that she was here, where would she go?

Anthony. The name came to mind first. He was the only one she could stomach talking to. But where would he be? Anthony mentioned an inn he was staying at. Johanna didn’t know where the inns were. Or the name of the one he was staying at. She held her hands in front of her and began on her unknown path. 

“Excuse me,” Johanna practiced to herself, “Do you know where the inns are?” 

She glanced around. Everyone stood with their heads pointed down. The thought of asking a stranger made her insides flutter. Johanna would have to find Anthony herself. 

The sun, although hidden by the mass clouds, beamed on Johanna as she wandered through the streets. She paused to steady herself against a park bench. 

“Are you alright, girl?” a woman questioned, tugging on her bonnet strings, “You’re rather pale.” 

“Quite.” 

The word turned to mush on her tongue. A low groan came from her throat. Perhaps, she should sit down. Just for a moment. Perhaps, she would find Anthony in the crowd, on the way to visit her. Johanna laid a hand on her stomach. Almost able to feel her ribs jutting out. 

“Jo?” 

Through her muddled thoughts, she recognized the nickname. Johanna mumbled. Toby ran up to her, grabbing her hand. 

“Come on, Jo! Mum’s ‘specting us back!” 

“Not now, Toby.” 

He looked back at her. “Jo? You ain’t lookin’ too good.” He plopped himself next to her. Toby’s warm hand in hers was more than welcome. “I’ll go get Mr. Todd. You wait ‘ere.” 

“No,” she croaked. 

“Leave it to me, Johanna. I’ll go get Mr. Todd. Just sit there.” 

“Toby, please, don’t-”

With a flash of his grin, Toby was off. Johanna’s eyes followed him.

Not Mr. Todd. Not Mrs. Lovett. 

She helped herself up, ignoring the black spotting her sight in a warning, and took a step. Falling to her knees. Her vision clouded darker, with two bars narrowing her sight in a tunnel. Johanna picked herself back up. Brushing off her skirt. It was a rock that tripped her. Yes, that was it. 

She could hear birds. Her birds. Chirping to their sweet melody, at last. The chatter among the others was lost to her. The birds stood out against them. Johanna let them win. 

“Johanna?” 

Large hands steadied her before Johanna could sink. She thanked them. At least, she meant to when her lips moved and parted. 

The scene in front of her was becoming increasingly darker. Until there was only black.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Johanna didn’t regret. There were few things to even think of regretting in her pathetic life. She didn’t regret running again. Or, at least, attempting to. 

She regretted not being prepared in advance. 

She didn’t regret warning the last victim of their eventual demise. It was her share of doing good. Something to try to bring grace back into the world. Johanna thought as she sat in the chair. To the side of her was a small table that leaned over when she wasn’t gentle, on it was a plate, with only pie crusts remaining. Johanna squeezed on her glass as Mr. Todd paced. Like the little girl who accepted too many undeserving scoldings from her nannies. Knowing she did nothing wrong, but not daring to defend herself. 

“Thank you for the food,” Johanna said. 

Mr. Todd leaned a hand against the window sill. “He’s still out there.” 

When Mr. Todd found her, practically laying on the street, Johanna knew the confrontation was coming. She would defend herself, in theory. Yet Mr. Todd didn’t speak of her disappearance. No, instead a certain “he” took over the conversation. Johanna didn’t move her lips. 

“Who, sir?” 

“Turpin.” 

Mr. Todd faced her again. Red ablaze with a tight grip. She tried to surpass a quiver under his gaze. 

“He’s still out there. It’s not  _ safe _ .” 

“I-I’m sorry.” 

Johanna never wished death to anyone. She couldn’t bring herself to  _ want  _ Turpin dead. He put a roof over her head, clothes on her back. He took care of her after her mother was driven to suicide. Yet Turpin wanted her as his bride. To watch over him in his final days. To calm his lust. 

She covered her mouth and stomach with her hands. The thought of marrying the judge - having his children - made her squeamish. 

He was guardian and pervert and she didn’t desire  _ revenge _ towards him. She didn’t want him dead. Away from her, but not dead. She wouldn’t mourn for her former guardian if he never got up from his bed one night. But didn’t want him to die. Or be killed. With Judge Turpin and the Beadle still wandering the streets - looking for  _ her _ , it wasn’t safe. 

“I understand,” she said, clasping her hands together, “But, you don’t need to-” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Mr. Todd-”

He stepped towards her, jabbing his finger through the air. “ _ He  _ took everything from me. He stole. He took your mother. Her dignity, her life. He sent me to Hell. He was always there, mocking me, mocking my girls, with his endless torture. He killed Benjamin Barker. And I will not rest until that man, that cruel and devil-born man, is  _ dead _ !” 

Mr. Todd’s tone rose with every word until it was nothing but rage. Johanna leaned back into the rotting cushion of her chair. Surprised her cup wasn’t broken with how tight she’d been holding it. She let the silence take over. 

_ Who was Benjamin Barker?  _

* * *

  
  


Deep inside her mind, (a wretched place to be, where her nightmares lived), she was hesitant to accept a new life. Perhaps, it was a trap or hoax. Perhaps, it was the one good dream she had. Memorable since it stood out amongst all her night terrors. 

But the blood staining the walls was real. 

Now, blood was an everyday occurrence. Along with the razors. Grinding gears. And the smoke coming from the chimney. Carrying its dreadful odor. 

Decorating the tools. The infernal chair, which only led unsuspecting men to hell. Blood glittered at her feet. Almost beautiful. 

Johanna tucked her skirts beneath her, as she sat on the trunk. She folded her hands in her lap. Her feet kicked back and forth, hitting the trunk with her heels. She glanced at the picture frame Mr. Todd kept. Of her mother holding her on her lap. Her father was in none of the pictures. 

She waited. 

Amidst the blood her father shed minutes prior. Nostrils filling with the familiar smoke. Johanna wasn’t certain why she waited in the red room with a metallic scent. She waited for Anthony. For her father’s bloodlust to cease. The pies being prepared downstairs. 

Johanna waited for normalcy. A family. No matter how macabre or fierce, she waited for one. 

A father she would tell jokes with. A father she relayed on and spilled her troubles to. A father she didn’t have to hide anything from or keep unasked questions between. A husband she would be devoted to and he would caress her cheek. Proclaiming their undying love for one another. 

And Johanna could wait for that. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
